(written for the NUMB News, Oct. 2000)
Organized baseball was far less organized when we were kids. Our games were in the morning or afternoon. Our team uniform was a cap. We wore short pants and gym shoes. Transportation to and from the field was your bike. Our coach was a 15 year old kid and we considered him a grown-up. Parents were conspicuous by their absence. Today, kids' ball games start at 6 or 7 p.m., so mom and dad can drive Junior to the field, and coach his team, and cheer and holler and provide "encouragement". Junior wears a cap and a jersey and real baseball pants with stirrups and cleats. He has a batting glove, maybe two. Foul ground is covered by partisan parents in lawn chairs, shouting out "Let's go, Junior! Level swing, Junior! Get a hit, Junior!" My, how things have changed.
This summer, John's coach-pitch team made it to their league championship game. So many parents and siblings showed up, they could have installed bleachers. And it was a good and interesting game -- very close, back and forth, and ultimately extra-innings, where John's team lost. The winning kids rolled in the dirt and celebrated like maniacs, while the losers . . . cried! Didn't expect that. I was suddenly filled with embarrassment -- not for the kids, but for all of us "supportive" parents whose well-meaning intentions had created unintended consequences. Of course, ten minutes later all was forgotten in a happy slurp-fest of Cokes and snowcones. But still!
I therefore propose, from my lofty perch as Commissioner Of The Universe, that henceforth all youth sports leagues be parent-free. Mom and Dad, go away! Just drop 'em off and pick 'em up when it's over. "So how was your game, Junior?" "Good, Dad." "That's nice." End of story.